Magic Flower
the scent of gardenias
warm summer nights
we kids in pajamas
windows cranked down
born along by Buzzer
our yellow Nash Rambler
pause by the front door
pick the whitest, freshest flower
childhood ritual
gardenia to nose
head, half out the window
Foothill Boulevard
blooming orange groves
drive-in movie
gardenia, orange blossoms,
smoke from Dad’s cigarette
mom’s long brown hair
against tan bare shoulders
black halter top
wide red belt to match lips and nails
white polka dots on a black skirt
easy evening out for the two of them
double feature
kid’s cartoon
then something more adult
first show not finished
before brown gardenia
dropped from my hand
child’s peaceful slumber
In those days I liked to think
my magic fragrant flower
moved my parents closer
on Buzzer’s bench seat
that somehow my child’s ritual
charmed Mother’s choice
before special dates with Dad
when she wore her black halter top
and spritzed Jungle Gardenia
on her tan shoulders
The Poetry and Prose of Barbara Huntington 
Barbara, what a lovely memory. Oh, those Drive-in movie days! And I love how a child’s perception of her powers comes in to play. Thank you. xoA
Thank you. That memory comes up whenever I smell a gardenia, especially just sticking my nose out of the window and smelling the gardenia and the outdoors
This is so vivid and full of sensory images. Bravo!
Thank you. Finally found your blog and loved it. Perhaps I should add an audio?
I was drawn into the fragrance of your memories – absolutely lovely
Thank you
Nash/Gardenia/Cigarette/Polka Dots/Child Ritual – very 50’s